


If I Could Just Get Him Out of My Head

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, R/NC-17 - Brown Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-26
Updated: 2008-06-26
Packaged: 2019-01-20 17:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: Sam needs to get Gene out of his head, especially when he is alone late at night in his bed...





	If I Could Just Get Him Out of My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).

It's the same thing, night after night after sodding night...so long now that he's lost count, and yes he's been counting. He drags his tired body to bed only to lay there while his mind takes a beating, unable to stop, unwilling to quit even to give in to maybe one night of peaceful sleep. Sure, his body slows for a few fitful hours, but even then his brain can't stop, or maybe Sam is afraid to let it stop, afraid that if he truly lets go and shuts down even for a minute....Well, he can't stop can he? He stops, he dies, at least that is what he tells himself over and over again. 

 

 

 

He tries lots of different things, all with varying results; things like downing half a bottle of whiskey before bed (drunk!Sam can be fun, with company, not so much without, he turns into a rather weepy girl if he does say so himself), smoking a bone or two before hitting the hay (stoner!Sam is pretty damn funny he thinks, but the fact that he his breaking the law, especially since he lifted the weed from some two bit dealer they had roughed up the night before, really doesn't sit well with him and keeps him up in a panicky fit for most of the night instead), or even different sorts of food (spicy leads to horrible nightmares and cold sweats, sweets leads to thinking about his insane fear of the dentist and of the root canal he'd had scheduled for the day after the accident and salty leads to him needing to drink lots of water which results in, of course, more trips to the bathroom than any healthy man not in his seventies and beyond should need.) This goes on for weeks, until one night he remembers something that always put him to sleep back in 2006.

 

 

That night he settles in, jittery as usual or maybe even more so because hell, he hasn't tried this here in 1973 yet. Truth of the matter is he hasn't really thought about sex much since he got here, he's been far too busy getting thrown around and roughed up by Gene to go on about such trivial things. In fact it's what kept him up most nights, thinking of Gene and how brutish he is and how he always has this need to shove or punch Sam, always with the touching and the invading of his personal space that man is. It drives Sam crazy, really, and it's one of the reasons he can't settle down at night, Gene riles him up so bad during the day that it often carries over and settles onto Sam's skin like a scratchy blanket, further revving up his already too quick mind. 

 

 

But not tonight, there would be no thoughts of Gene and his touching and his presence tonight. No, tonight Sam would think about someone he fancied, some soft and curvy girl like Annie, with her pretty face and her cheery demeanor. No, he would not think of Gene and his calloused fingers as he runs his own hands over his body, reintroducing himself to his own sorely neglected skin. He would not think of his DCI as he ghosts his hand over his own hardening flesh nor would he recall the infuriating way that same man invades Sam's personal space, always crowding him in. And no certainly not him or that as he cups himself tight, too tight like Gene might be apt to do...

 

 

God, no.

 

 

He would think of soft hands, just as soon as he gets Gene out of his mind, just as soon as he starts to pump into his own fist. Yes, soft and warm and maybe a little cautious, not like Gene, not hard, hot and erratic, no these hands he would imagine would be...

 

 

So good.

 

 

She would be new to this, wanting to explore, wanting to stroke Sam slowly, languidly. As soon as he could stop thinking of Gene, he would be able to feel it, to feel her. As soon as he stops his feverish, sure motions. He would be able to hear her voice, her beautiful soft voice, so unlike the gravelly voice in his head, the one that breathes hot in his ear and against his skin, egging him on and demanding, always demanding and taking....

 

 

Fuck, yes.

 

 

Not asking, telling. He just had to see her, will see her as soon as Gene gets out of his head. Gene with his in Sam's face all the time ways, with his up against Sam all the time body, with his in Sam's head all the time...God he just has to see her, just has to feel her fingers around him, her palm around him, her voice in his ear, whispering sweet and encouraging him to let it all go....But God Gene won't leave, he is there, always there yelling and taking and hard and God if he doesn't stop soon with his fist....

 

 

Gene. Shit, Gene. Fuck....Gene.

 

 

Sam falls into a peaceful sleep, until Gene breaks down his door hours later....


End file.
